Korean culinary adventure
Not a fan of kimchi, Rebecca Ilham discovers more Korean cuisine that appeals to her taste buds
HANSIK — or Korean cuisine — is a part of hallyu, or Korean wave that has been taking the world by storm since the late 1990s.
Kimchi, for instance, is now a staple on dining tables all around the world. To be honest, I am not a fan of the fermented vegetable. Its pungent smell is a turn-off, and the tangy taste does not sit well with my taste buds. Thankfully, kimchi is just a side dish (banchan).
But when my dietician sister and I take a trip to South Korea, I am determined to discover more of hansik, and hopefully find something new that is kind to my Malaysian palate.
Our culinary adventure starts off in a narrow alley in Dongdaemun, where restaurants serving grilled fish are up next to each other. Originally serving lunch and dinner to hungry merchants from the nearby markets, the restaurants now grill fresh fish from late morning well into the night.
Choosing a restaurant is difficult as our grumbling stomachs do not allow us the luxury to walk around for long; we simply duck into the first door and are ushered to a table next to a group of middle aged women (ajumma) enjoying their meal.
The standard fare — rice, doenjang jjigae (bean paste stew) and a set of side dishes — is immediately served when we place an order for grilled Spanish mackerel and sundubu jjigae (spicy seafood and soft tofu stew). I absorb the ambience: the noise, offensive aroma of various things fermented, glare from stainless steel cutlery and bowls and efficiency of the ajummas are precisely the images in Korean dramas, reality shows and documentaries.
Our main dishes arrive shortly, and we happily devour them. The grilled fish is soft and flaky — the flesh is sweet and succulent, the delicate flavours extracted without any marinade but just sprinkles of salt prior to grilling.
The sundubu jjigae doesn’t disappoint either. The spiciness from gochugaru (red pepper chilli powder) is excellent, but the broth — enriched with fresh clams, vegetables and a poached egg — is the clear winner. We leave the restaurant full and satisfied.
CHANCE ENCOUNTER
Our next Korean dish is more of a chance encounter than a planned one. Out shopping in Myeongdong after dusk and snacking on street food, we are soon looking for a place to sit down for dinner. Glancing down one of the smaller alleys, I see a placard with “halal food” on it.
Thankfully, that leads us to Busanjib, a small restaurant owned by a local who stays true to its south coastal city’s namesake by serv-
ing seafood-based Korean dishes. The menu is quite extensive, and the portions of most dishes are family size. Hence, we settle for a bowl of jeonbok ramyeon (abalone ramen) and
jeonbokjuk (abalone porridge) each. Obviously, both come with banchan, which tremendously help to elevate the bland rice porridge. Yet, I enjoy the juk plain — it is almost like the ultimate comfort food prepared by my mother. The ramyeon is not bad either — the seasoning is spicy and the broth piping hot. The abalone slices do transform the humble dish into a luxurious one.
After a morning excursion to Seoul Ttukseom Resort where I run along the Han River for a half marathon distance and my sister explores the public park, we are in need of carbohydrates. So we head to Sindang,
known as Tteokbokki (rice cake) Town. There are many restaurants but we join the queue outside Mabongnim Tteokbokki, a restaurant that has been around for 60 years that is also a friend’s trusted recommendation.
We order rabokki for two, mentioning that it should come with no gogi (meat). A few minutes later, the ajumma server returns with a huge pan which she expertly places on a cooking stove in the middle of our table.
Turning the fire on, she leaves us to
Jjampong, soft silky noodles.
our own devices. My sister and I quickly mix the ingredients in the pan. Mainly consisting of ramyeon and cylinder-shaped tteokbokki
(hence the name “rabokki”), other ingredients include odeng (fish cake), fried mandu (dumpling), cabbages, onion, green onion and
jjolmyeon noodles. Binding them all is gochujang (fermented red pepper chilli paste).
It’s a marvel to witness how heat facilitates chemical reactions among the different ingredients, turning ordinary food items into a delicious dish! We join the Sunday lunch crowd and savour every bite, eating to our hearts’ contents. Still, the generous portion of rabokki is a bit too much for two Malaysian girls. Otherwise, we could have asked for some rice and
kimgaru (laver flakes) to be mixed with leftover sauce at the bottom of the pan to make bokkeumbap, leaving nothing to waste.
FOOD FOR TOURISTS
Just a stone’s throw from the main tourists’ attractions of Gwanghwamun Square and Cheongyecheon is a gem of a restaurant — Mugyodong. After two hours of walking to almost every nook and cranny in the vast palace grounds, we make our way there for its specialty, buge
oguk (dried pollock soup).
There is no need to place an order, as the
soup is the only item on the menu. Our meals, inclusive of rice, banchan and a condiment that looks similar to cencaluk, arrive barely two minutes after we sit down. The friendly ajumma shows us how to enjoy the dish and we promptly dig in.
The clear soup of dried Pollack slices, leeks and onions, tastes exactly like how it looks — very plain. My sister takes hers with
kimchi, but I decide that I can endure the natural flavour. A pinch of gochugaru may have turned the dish around but I still find it to be a fulfilling meal.
Hiking along the Hanyangseong (Seoul City Wall) on the Naksan trail — the easiest and shortest trail — takes a toll on us. We stop by Gwangjang Market on our way to Changdeok Palace to share a bowl of
hobakjuk (pumpkin porridge) and patbingsu
(shaved ice topped with adzuki bean paste) at a small stall.
Mung bean porridge and adzuki bean porridge are also on the menu. Cooked in a nofrill home style, the porridge are all enjoyed with perilla leaf water kimchi. I love how the stall owner (a no-nonsense ajumma) attracts prospective customers, and instructs us to make space for each other on the benches around her stoves. Amid the chaos in the traditional market, the stall is one cosy spot with comforting treats.
A trip to Seoul is incomplete without a visit to Itaewon. Home to Seoul Central Mosque, the vicinity of the only Muslim place of worship in the city is surrounded by halal restaurants, including those serving Korean dishes. We check out the menu of several eateries and pick Makan Halal Korean Food. My sister does not hesitate in choosing
bulgogi (stir-fried marinated beef slices) while I go for the unfamiliar dakdoritang (spicy chicken stew with potatoes). The dishes are served in hot dolsot (stone pots) and are still bubbling when they reach our table.
My stew is delicious; the chicken pieces are tender and falling off the bones while the flavourful red broth has soaked through the chicken meat. The broth is thickened by breaking an egg into it, turning it into a creamy, rich concoction. The bulgogi is tasty too — it is soft and cooked perfectly but beef isn’t my favourite protein so I can’t appreciate the juicy meat as much as my sister does.
We return to the alley of Dongdaemun to sample another specialty — nakji bokkeum
(spicy stir-fried octopus) — at the grilled fish restaurant. The serving is generous, and together with the side dishes, can be easily enjoy by a party of four. The restaurant treats seafood with respect — we love how the octopus is cooked — it is soft and tender without being too chewy.
Gochujang and gochugaru give the dish a good flavour, but we feel that it may be little too spicy even for our Malaysian taste buds. However, combined with assortment of vegetables such as chopped cabbage, onions and
Fresh fish on the grill.
carrots, it’s a great dish to be savour with hot rice and plain doenjang jjigae.
KOREAN MEAT
Bibimbap(Korean mixed rice) is high in our Korean dishes list, so we take an early morning KTX train out of Seoul Station to its origin — Jeonju — for a serving.
We are not sure which restaurant is the best so upon arrival at Jeonju Maeul (Jeonju Hanok Village), we ask the tourist information centre for a recommendation. That’s how we end up at Gajok Hoegwan (Family Hall) for lunch.
The restaurant serves Jeonju-style bibimbap only, with two variations — one with beef tartare, the other without. Either way, both come with an array of beautifully arranged finely sliced vegetables and assortments of side dishes.
Bibimbap is served all over Korea, but what makes Jeonju-styled version special is the inclusion of mung bean jelly and locally grown bean sprouts that are tastier than others.
The rice is also cooked in beef broth instead of water, but when the ajumma server asks if “gogi, kenchana?” (Is the meat okay?), we quickly answer “no”.
I’m not a fan of raw egg, which is usually placed in the middle of the rice bowl, and am grateful when steamed egg is served instead.
The dish is too pretty to eat. However, we are famished and do not admire our bowls for long. Scooping a generous dollop of gochu
jang each, we carefully mix the rice and vegetables together.
Greens are definitely not my preferred food group, but I find the nutty flavour of the dish delicious.
The crispy, crunchy vegetables provide texture, assuring me that I am savouring something healthy. The ajumma who serves us passes our table by, so I can’t resist telling her that the dish is “chongmal masshisoyo”
(very tasty).
South Korea has been an interesting culinary adventure, but before my sister and I board the plane home, we just have to have one last meal. We have encountered jjamp
pong in a restaurant near Konkuk University during our wanderings, but are unsure about its broth. Thus when we see that it’s seafood-based at one of the eateries in Incheon International Airport, we just can’t pass the chance up.
A spicy noodle soup, jjamppong is essentially a localised Chinese dish. The broth, infused with dried anchovies, gochugaru and chilli oil, explodes with flavour. The noodle is smooth and the seafood — primarily abalone slices — generous. It is indeed a great conclusion to our exploration of hansik. Korean cuisines are, thankfully, more than kimchi.